


Betrayer

by mythopathic



Category: Marvel, Thor (2011)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Porn Battle, Rough Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-09-12
Updated: 2011-09-12
Packaged: 2017-10-23 16:55:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,976
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/252636
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mythopathic/pseuds/mythopathic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They say a person can live two lives at the same time, a public life  and a private life, one that happens behind closed doors and away from judgmental eyes. <br/>[Takes place a little before and during the movie]</p>
            </blockquote>





	Betrayer

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written for Porn Battle XII, slightly revised, still porny.

  
**Part One:**   


 

 

Sif exhilarated, overjoyedand relieved beyond words watched radiant Thor, triumphant Thor, back alive from slaying this subterranean wyrm or stealing that dwarfish object of power Thor laying his trophy (a troll’s head this time) to his father’s feet and accept the honour of an embrace from the Alfather. Then he turned to Frigg and let her hide her tears on his breastplate and then he turned to speak to iron-faced grudge-holding Loki. Sif watched as his mischievous brother’s face broke into an exasperated smile under one of Thor’s bone-grinding embraces of which Sif had her fair share of experience.

They were both born for kingship and Asgard had only the one throne but there was no denying the deep affection Thor and Loki had for each other. When the princes of Asgard had their feuds the Asgardians knew to seek shelter and in their fights lay the reason the boulevard of the Vanir pantheon was so shiny and new. Any other two siblings and there would have been bad blood between them but Thor’s good nature would never allow for resentment towards his person. Not even Loki managed to resist him as the day had proved. Not even if Thor was to be crowned king in three days.

That was what she told herself when she crept into Loki’s rooms at night, in the farthermost wing of the castle that was so difficult to keep warm during the winter. She had to manoeuvre around his books—heaps and stacks and haphazard towers of them—to reach him. One permanent column held the books of the legends that Thor had proven true. It had grown to her height in the last decade. Loki’s books and issued challenges brought Thor— and occasionally Sif herself— to the threshold of death to find glory instead and all the louder did the Asgardians cheer for their future king who took on fearful creatures out of myths and came back to tell the tale. Sif had been there the first time Odin Allfather spoke to his eldest beginning with, “When you are king you will have an obligation to your people,” ten years ago. “To be brave enough for all of them. Show them you can defend them.” The truth is not many of those forgotten legends were much of a threat to Asgard lost as they were in oblivion.

 

“I was not expecting you,” Loki said glancing up from a parchment he was scribbling on.

She hesitated. “Liar.” She always came to him whenever something happened to quicken her blood, be it battle or joy or grief and if she had seen a pattern so could he. “But I can leave you to your studies.”

“Oh no, please. You know I find your presence here very pleasing.”

She began undressing rather than ponder his double-edged words and it made him at last forsake pen and paper. “So what have you been reading on lately?” she asked while he loosened the side straps holding her bodice together.

“Do you remember the game we played the other night?”

Loki’s latest version of hide-and-seek involved cloaking himself in his magic. “I remember winning that game,” she said removing her linen tunic. Her breasts spilled free in the coolness of the evening.

“You hold an unfair advantage,” he murmured.

Sif laughed.

“But,” he continued, “I think we both won that game.”

Her antagonism flared. “I heard your coming and caught you. It was a clean victory.” She drew his shirt from his trousers to get to skin warm and supple.

“I intend to correct that next time.” Loki cupped one breast taking the nipple into his mouth and sucking. He pinched the other between two fingers and she felt the response coming from her womb.

“Cheat.”

Sif let him back her into the writing desk quickly discarding her trousers and boots. His fingers grazed her folds as he sat her down and then retreated leaving her wanting. She tore the shirt from his shoulders needing to restore balance. His trousers followed hers to the floor. Lips and tongue fluttered in the valley between her breasts in what she hoped was a downward course and fingers drew ovals in the sensitive skin in the back of her knees. He was tickling her!

“Goosebumps,” he murmured over her stomach, “always a good sign.”

She bit his ear. He cried out and looked at her accusingly and she bared her teeth at him. Loki slipped two fingers inside her cunt to etch those maddening ovals again while his thumb mirrored the motion around her clitoris. She tightened legs and arms around his deceptively lean muscles. His earlobe was close to her mouth again but this time she sucked.

Distantly she heard paper crackling and a book spine jabbed at her shoulder. Loki leaned over her claiming the other nipple between his lips and she pushed her pelvis up, caught his cock and ground. His hand, trapped, circled her clitoris and his hard prick rubbed against her slick folds teasing but not entering. Sif used the fingernails of one hand to bite into his ass and slipped the other in the crevice between his cheeks reaching for his balls.

He grinned when he thrust inside her. She smiled back only when his grin melted into concentration and she felt him short of breath in agony and exposed. She kissed him tongue rolling around his and began pushing back in earnest driving him in deeper and breaking his rhythm. Through the dissonance they managed a speed twice as fast that drove her mad. Sif replaced his hand with her own in slick with sweat and cream curls and rubbed her clitoris until she found her orgasm close, so close. She came with the nova bursting behind her eyes, muscles clenching over his hardness. With the hand still between them she pressed against the underside of his sack and then he was shuddering inside and out with her.

They came down together lying side by side connected from ribcage to hip. Sif’s head bumped another book but the thought of their sex infusing his notes made her feel vindicated and didn’t mention the discomfort.

“It’s what I’m trying to remedy,” Loki said quietly, conversationally.

“Remedy what?” she replied confused.

“The sound of my presence. It is the last step of a stealth glamour.”

The glamour that could fool even Heimdall he had explained with reserved enthusiasm. She had completely forgotten their pre-coital conversation. Suddenly she felt the chill of drying sweat creeping along the side of her body that Loki wasn’t touching and got up stirring him. Pain from the phantom touch of the books she had laid on kept her company as she picked up her clothes.

“I should go.”

“Of course.” Loki drew his hand through his dishevelled hair as if trying to pull his person into a sense of order.

She was shrugging on her clothes when he started, “You have—”

“What?”

“Have you picked a gown for my brother’s coronation yet or do you intend to appear in full armour?”

“I have a gown.” The normalcy of the conversation came as a relief.

“Will it be bare-backed then?” His eyebrows lifted in the most innocent of expressions.

“You shall find out with everyone else,” she tossed back.

 

Loki sat on his golden throne yielding his silver tongue to soothe the blow of his refusal to bring his beloved brother home. Sif thought of the faint inkmarks on her back where his reversed runes impressed on her skin in his slanting nimble hand and shook, murder and mayhem filling her heart. His horned helmet cast a terrible shadow on the wall behind him like a truth that had been brewing inside him and was only now revealed for the world to witness. Except there was no one who mattered to see and cry for the betrayer.

 

 

  
**Part Two:**   


 

The Lady Sif was on her way to take a platter of fruit and bread to Frigga to break her fast. She knew the queen would have forsaken food and drink while she guarded the old king’s sleep while her unfocused eyes saw the Norns knew what. That is how she crossed paths with Loki Odinson. She meant to slip past him but his fingers closed around her arm and she had been expecting it somehow because the tray never faltered.

“Come to me this evening, will you please?” he whispered his face too close to hers. He was dressed formally in metal plated leathers shining yellow and black and his forest green cloak. His horned helmet loomed over her until she had to back away from it.

“I know it is unusual for me to seek you out in this manner. You will come though, won’t you? I wish to see you.”

He had never sought her out before. She came to his rooms whenever she felt the need and whatever he had been doing he had left to cater to her. He knew she owed him. His green eyes were wide and pleading but the quirk on his lips spoke of smugness.

Balancing the trey she bowed deeply. “As you wish, Highness.” Her eyes didn’t leave the floor until she felt him turn away.

 

Sif stood at his threshold noting the absence of guards—he never did want anyone know his doings—wearing a simple tunic and leggings. She took a deep breath. Nothing had changed but for her illusions that had melted and fell in front of her very eyes like so much rain—or tears. He had not changed. The Loki she had gone to countless adventures with and the Loki she had been seeing in his rooms and the one she had seen in the throne room had always been the same, hadn’t he been?

She should have come in full armour with her spear and whip and a dirk hidden in her left boot but would it make a difference, she wondered. There was no metal strong enough to withstand the power of his words and they always went for the heart.

She entered the chamber only when his voice bade her to, a variation to _before_ since she had never waited for permission.

She bowed. “My king.”

She had ridiculously imagined he would be wearing his helmet now even at leisure but he was as economically dressed as she had always found him, his high necked black shirt buttoned up all the way up immaculately pressed. His eyes were as guileless and the quirk of his lips as mischievous as ever.

“Sif, sweetheart you can stop pretending you have any deference for me as your king.” He took her hands and drew her to her feet. “You must hate me now. You can say it and I promise I won’t cry treason.”

“Or banish me from Asgard?”

He laughed. “Yes! Much better!”

Sif lifted her hands to touch him through his shirt, felt his stomach and ribcage. There was his liver and there the aorta. She traced upwards and there was his heart thrumming away merrily, innocently. In the small space between two ribs a thin layer of lean dancer’s muscles and the fabric she bunched in her fists separated her hand from it. Loki circled her waist laughing at her and squeezed her buttocks. All was normal.

She wanted to ask him how long he had mourned for his brother and father, ask him if he noticed the quiet desperation in Asgard’s atmosphere, ask to please let Thor return because they needed him to lead and laugh and give hope, and Loki felt it too didn’t he?

She bit it back. Nothing important ever crossed their lips in these moments, no questions raised—like what drove the Lady Sif to Loki Silvertongue time and again when she had always looked at his face and saw intent to harm his dearest brother Thor. And why Loki always took Sif in. It would only end badly. All was too normal.

 

“You are going to bring ruin to you and yours.” The words appeared on her lips, uttered in her voice without her consent.

“I will keep your heeding close to heart,” he replied kneading her breasts.

“There never was a man or woman who came to know Thor and did not love him.” Pique, warning or challenge she didn’t care to know what took over her. He was drawing with his thumbs exquisite circles around her nipples hindered and enhanced from the fabric. Sif reached with her rough fingers for his delicate nape and pulled his hair.

“My brother is fortunate to inspire such loyalty,” he said nuzzling her neck. “It’s a shame he lost the power of Mjolnir.” He pinched her nipples hard. Sif drew him closer and felt his cock pressing against her belly.

“I would follow him into battle with or without the great hammer,” she said guiding his head down for a kiss. Loki resisted. “Many would.”

“Golden Sif, Warrior Sif, my lady,” Loki said slowly. “I would too.” Only then he gave.

 

The path to his bed became a battlefield. Sif pushed him back. He used the momentum to swivel her until her rear was pressed to his front pinning her arms as he reached around to knead her left breast and her sex. She shook him off only to latch onto him arms and legs—he staggered with her weight—and lips sucking his tongue in and biting. She tasted blood. It was his turn to grab her hair by the braid and pull and put a good distance between him and her teeth without detaching completely. He made for the bed and she caught his left knee with her heel. They fell hard Sif landing on top and ripping his sleeve in the process.

She locked her strong rider’s legs around his middle to ease the pain of his sharp pelvis on the soft underside of her thighs. She batted away his hands that were opening her shift. She unlaced his trousers open with one hand and stroked, with the other she held him down by the throat. Between her knuckles springy hairs from his pubis caught and he gasped.

Loki dug a thumb hard at the joint in her elbow and it bent. He flipped them and pinned her shoulders to the floor to kiss a long line down her throat. Nonetheless she thrashed managing a few hits with the heels of her palms at his sides while she ground against him. “Fuck!” he rasped jerking back on his haunches. “Stop fighting!”

Sif stopped fighting him out of sheer shock. “Loki?”

“I can’t hold it, fuck!” Every muscle on his back looked painfully constricted. His head was bowed and the light cast an eerie blue sheen to his shoulders, stooped as he was on top of her.

The longest time passed with only the sound of his harsh breathing and Sif was brought back to the training grounds of their childhood where Tyr Hymirson would make them all hold one fighting stance sword poised and breathe just breathe through the pain of their arms, torsos and legs cramping up and trembling. “Concentrate!” Tyr shouted. “Hold your swords steady or I will grind your soft hides in this dust that is made of the bones of true warriors! Hold!”

Just as suddenly it was over and he was directing a self-deprecating grin at her and she removed her hands which she found were squeezing his shoulders. “I’ve ruined the moment. I’m sorry.” Sif didn’t know what he saw written on her face but he continued. “You won’t go, will you?” he asked, stroking her knee.

He had changed. He had never asked anything of her, for this once giving her the power to deny him and yet somehow _somehow_ making her the subservient one. “No,” she said almost inaudibly. “I’ll stay.”

 

He bent forward to kiss her and she returned it, sliding her tongue along his. Her hands reacquainted with the hollows and angles of his face. No more clothes tore as they removed them. Locks of her hair fell loose around them thanks to his clever fingers. She kneeled once again astride him and fingered his cock, drawing him inside carefully. Her walls stretched a little painfully around him, she was still not wet enough, and he let his head fall back with a silent groan and closed his eyes. She waited with practised stillness, for the telltale juices to ease the way. Beads of perspiration formed on his smooth torso making her hand almost slip as she rolled her hips softly first and then again and again.

He watched her, black eyes wide. Wholly wet now, she speeded the motion wanting to hear him gasp, tempting fate. Her orgasm was brewing, not far away. Loki pulled himself up until their eyes levelled and she folded her legs around him. He guided her arms around his shoulders as well and steadying his hands on the floor he thrust against her. The friction changed.

“I want to see,” he said and leaned forward. Sif found herself hanging from his neck her legs struggling for purchase and finding it feet flat on the floor but only if she kept moving slapping against him, opening completely to his gaze. They watched riveted where he was pumping in and out of her core, she found the perfect circle for her hips to trace and once, twice, five times she came apart. When he came right behind her their structure gave out and they sprawled tangled and sweaty gasping for their breath.

 

Sif rose and left soon after like in any other normal night. Better to leave before her mouth ran away from her again or she lost the will to gather the Warriors Three and bring back Thor.

 


End file.
